Dust in Our Hands {Alice Ruth King}

[Raziel Och]

The night was cold and dark and oppressive, with the sky hanging above Raziel starless and without light. The air was filled with the smell of hot asphalt and the promise of more rain, with clouds rolling in from the west. He took a breath, closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. His muscular frame was dressed in a simple dark tunic and boots, light and comfortable for efficient combat without threat of being slowed down. Raziel liked that, for his bulk didn’t allow him to be particularly fast or nimble. He didn’t need to worsen that drawback by cumbersome battle gear.

The weight of his red oak stave was comfortable in his palm, felt familiar and safe. It reminded him why he was out there on the city streets to begin with. With a small nod, Raziel stepped out from the corner he cloaked himself in and headed off down the street as quietly as possible. He did his best to not draw attention to his person. As part of Heaven’s Gate, he couldn’t go around doing his business out in the open. He charged himself with the task of hunting down creatures, namely shape-shifters, if only to keep humans safe. Raziel did not want what happened to his family to happen to others. It wasn’t a pretty task by any means, but if it meant he kept others safe then he’d do it for as long as he had to.

The street was quiet and empty, with the streetlights spilling their orange light onto the sidewalk and road in pools. His footsteps echoed hollowly as he kept his eyes trained in front of him. A fleeting sense of relief washed over him as he spotted nothing out of the ordinary. It was a perfectly calm night, with the breeze wafting through the suburb and making the leaves of the trees shiver.

For the most part, Raziel was beginning to think he was wasting his time ever bothering to “patrol” the too quiet street, what with its darkened homes and silent road. Nothing was going awry, and nothing was causing trouble, a fact he knew he should be happy about. Raziel ran a hand through his short blond hair, chewing on his bottom lip.

A tiny voice in the back of his head was starting to convince him to call it an early night, that the neighbourhood was completely safe and free of harm. He was forming half a mind to do just that.

[Alice Ruth King]

If life was a movie, there would inevitably be a soundtrack. Alice liked to imagine that all of her personal soundtrack included songs that were intense and included heart-wrenching guitar riffs. However, at this point in time, she felt something more along the lines of O Fortuna would be playing. Still quite intense, suggesting something dark about to happen... It was entirely fitting for a dark scene, on a dark night, with dark deeds happening all around.

Alice wished that the scene in her life would get exciting in the same way that music crescendos and ups its tempo. Right now, though, she was merely stalking along in an alleyway, lit cigarette in her mouth, hair giving off a soft glow. I wish this thing had an off switch. Alice tied up her hair out of the way, sighing. Azar was quick to answer.

I adore your hair. The same thing happens to my feathers, you know. The phoenix chirped inside Alice's head, and Alice ignored it. It was quite infuriating how... chipper the bird seemed to always feel. Then again, she was only three years old. Azar began humming- an odd sensation, as it was completely mental. Alice began humming along herself; Azar had been humming it in her head for three years.

Alice, distracted by the rather short conversation in her head, was not paying attention to the direction she was walking in. Naturally, her author loves doing things like this, so Alice smacked into a brick wall of a man. The force of it knocked Alice's ass right into the ground, and a smart-assed remark was not far away. "Watch the fuck where you're going, ass...hole..." It took Alice a moment to take in what it was she rammed into. 'It' was a six-foot-three man that looked as if he could crush a person's skull with his little fingers. Alice would have liked to say she wasn't intimidated, but that would have been a blatant lie. Still, she managed to hold her own and glare solidly.

[Raziel Och]

The night was still dreadfully boring—something that was both a blessing and a curse in Raziel’s eyes. Though he was sure he was going to die from sometime soon. The most exciting thing to have happened in the past ten minutes was the distinct call of an owl. Raziel had tried for a time to pinpoint the bird’s location to no avail, something he met with a small measure of disappointment.

Due to the way he happened to have let his mind wander, even Alice’s faintly glowing hair didn’t snap him out of his reverie. At least, not until he felt himself collide with her. Raziel was forced back a couple of steps, but otherwise remained upright. He was put immediately on the defensive, and assumed something of a fighting stance as he viewed Alice with the utmost of suspicion. His face had already curled up in a sneer as he peered down at the woman from the tip of his nose. Alice was generously endowed and had an unnatural look about her face. The cigarette she was smoking burned brightly in the dark night, standing out almost as much as her flaming red hair did.

Raziel barked out an awkward laugh. “I fear I may need to remind you who you speak to,” he spat, hands curled tightly around his red staff. From the instant he laid eyes on her, Raziel knew there was… something off about her. The way her hair seemed to glow with an energy all of its own was his first clue, but those piercing yellow eyes were what grabbed his attention the most. No human had eyes like that. At least, none who were free from the touch of creatures.

“Now tell me,” he said, returning her glare. “what brings someone of your ilk out tonight?” Raziel's grip on his staff never loosened, and his knuckles were almost white. He could feel fire bubbling in the pit of his stomach and rising, though he did his best to swallow it down.

[Alice Ruth King]

Finally, something might happen... The glowingly-redheaded girl picked herself up from off the ground. She took her time dusting herself off, adjusting her jacket, and taking a couple of drags off of the cigarette before she spoke. In her head, she was sizing up the man that stood before her. "I guess you will have to remind me, considering the fact that I've got no fucking clue as to your identity except the fact that you're a douche bag," Alice spoke with vinegar in her voice, while in her head, Azar and Alice were discussing something quite fervently.

Wow, this guy is huuuuge! Azar's voice was filled with... awe? Alice scowled. Yeah, whatever. He has stupid-looking glasses, though. I wonder just how blind he is? Alice wondered if she could roundhouse kick the glasses off the guy's face. It might give her an advantage should they fight, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't be that easy. She spoke, trying to think of other ways she could possibly take on someone with a wooden stick and rippling pectorals. "'Someone of my ilk'? What, a girl can't take a walk on a night like this without being suspect of something? Real nice way to think of me."

Alice, shouldn't you begin heating yourself up? Maybe you'll be able to break three hundred degrees if you start thinking about it now~ Azar remarked, a bit timidly. I mean, if you're going to fight this guy. Which I hope you don't, but, I mean, you're you... Alice took the good advice of her phoenix and began heating up her hands. Well, fuck you and your logic, Azar. The bird in her head chirped. Anytime, Alice~

[Raziel Och]

Alice was surprisingly nonchalant given the way Raziel was openly challenging her, as if these sorts of things happened to her on a nightly basis. With a practiced calm, she adjusted her leather jacket and dragged on her cigarette. Oh, how he wanted to slap that cigarette out of her hands. The acid in her voice was not masked, and her barbed tongue did little to curb his growing ire. It welled up inside of him, crashing against the crumbling wall of his self-control.

“Don’t play dumb, for it does not become you. You’re far from any ordinary girl, aren’t you. ” He remarked, shifting his grip on his favoured short staff. Raziel nodded his head towards her hair. “Your hair—it gives it away far too easily.” He furrowed his brow, mouth contorting into an ugly sneer. “Tell me, what manner of demon do I have the displeasure of speaking too?” Given her eerily yellow eyes, he had to place his money on possessed. Bound was out of the question—she wouldn’t have her fire-red hair or those piercing eyes of hers.

In all honesty, he had more experience fighting shape-shifters than he did… whatever Alice was. And she was definitely not a shape-shifter, this much he could infer. His eyes caught Alice doing something with her hands then, and his guard rose up. Shifting his feet, he gave himself better balance. The end of his red oak stave pointed towards Alice, and he watched her warily from under his glasses. Raziel could not, unfortunately, tell what exactly Alice was planning to do with her hands, or if she was trying to feign for something else.

[Alice Ruth King]

To any innocent bystander, the scene would probably look something along these lines: a girl with strange hair and eyes, looking like a hoodlum in her leather jacket, smoking a cigarette, staring and occasionally talking to a giant of a man. A giant of a man that just happened to be wielding some kind of fancy stick. To be honest, it would appear almost comical, but there was a certain amount of tension surrounding the two that any element of humor was sucked dry. (Not that it deters this author from constantly trying to insert it in and therefore keeping anything she does from being serious, but that's a story for a time that is not right now)

Alice did not have the pleasure of being an innocent bystander. Nor did she have the patience to wait for this guy to try and strike. So, acting in that special way of Alice's, she flicked her cigarette away (not bothering to stomp it out), and then she stomped her way closer to the man. "You talk like a douchebag, I hope you know. We're in the twenty-first century, not a b-movie." She popped her knuckles, the blood really starting to flow through her veins. "And for your information, asshole, my hair glows because of the lovely little phoenix I host inside my body. No demons here, just me and you."

Alice began to back away a bit, but she decided to take a slightly different course of action. His douchebaggery was really starting to wear on her nerves, so Alice punched the man in the face with a fist heated to somewhere around two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit. With any luck, his glasses would fall off, and with a bit more, he wouldn't counterattack. Yeah, fat chance of that. He had been pretty open in his challenge towards Alice, but as this wasn't too different than anyone else (except, you know, the dude likely to be more trained than the assholes at school), Alice chose to add a little more to the situation.

"By the way, fuck you."

[Raziel Och]

Phoenix, demon, they were all the same. The fact that a phoenix managed to possess an unsuspecting girl did it no favours, nor won it any credit. Alice, as far as he knew, was tucked far away inside of herself as the phoenix she “hosted” ran around freely. Now it was going to get recompense, it’s just desserts.

“Your words don’t trick me, phoenix.” He said, glaring. “I won’t let you bedevil me like you did your so called host.” What boons did it offer to her, this phoenix? What did it promise to Alice so it could gain the body of a human to use as a plaything? More importantly, did she submit to the phoenix with her own free will? A hundred and one different questions surged in his mind, none he had an answer for. Though he was sure those would have been less than favourable.

Searing heat flew towards him. Alice threw her fist at his face then, and it was only a quick snap of his wrist that saved his face from being ravaged by third degree burns. Raziel knocked her hand out of the way just in time with his staff. He jumped backwards, unwillingly to let her try that stunt again. The man was not surprised Alice could heat her fists to alarmingly hot degrees, what with the phoenix inhabiting the girl’s body. Being on the defensive, if he’d like to escape the fight relatively unburned, was his only course of action.

”Finally, something we can agree on.” Raziel spat, temper flaring. He had to shut this phoenix down, and fast. Sadly, he was sure the girl was lost, swallowed whole by the creature she fell victim to. Raziel swung his red oak stave, aimed a blow for her shoulder. If it was lucky, it would hit and make her recoil, giving him another window to hit her with another strike.

[Alice Ruth King]

The motherfucker deflected Alice's fist. With his stick. Her temper flared accordingly; you could almost see her 'inner fire' flaring. And then that stupid stick hit her shoulder, causing Alice to stumble a few feet. "Fuck, asshole, what is your problem?" Because a punch aimed to his face was just not this big of a deal. Well, not to Alice, anyways. Oh, Alice, how could you not expect him to hit you back? I mean- Just, please, Azar, shut the fuck up. Ooh, fine, angry girl. Alice's shoulder throbbed a bit, and she could feel the bruise forming. Alice aimed a lovely roundhouse kick to Raziel's face (she still had the idea getting his glasses off would be a good thing), and once her foot hit the ground, a small realization washed over her.

Alice was, naturally, just catching onto the bloke's previous words. "Wait, you think I'm the phoenix?" This sent Alice into a bit of a laughter fit. Her laughter was a bit obnoxious and quite rough, as four years of smoking cigarettes had left her voice quite raw. The idea that he thought Azar -Azar, the sweetest little phoenix ever to have lived, Azar, the one reason for Alice's occasional restraint- was in fact the one whom he was walking to, well, it just left her ridiculously amused. "Oh, man, to imagine Azar acting like me... Bro, you are quite mistaken." Alice, of course, was left wide open. In fact, it was probably at this point that another blow landed on Alice. If it did, well, we may never know.

[Raziel Och]

Truth be told, Raziel wasn’t banking on his stave to connect with Alice’s shoulder. Something about her told him she was quick, fast on her feet. He rejoiced when it did, when she stumbled a few feet backwards in proper recoil. So the phoenix didn’t hype its human vessel up with any reactionary bonuses. That was a helpful note he stowed away for future reference.

”My ‘problem’ is you.” He barked at her. Anger, hot and unbidden surged through his body. ”My ‘problem’ is what you happen to represent—and lord grant me strength if you think I will grant you mercy, creature.”

In all of his fury, he did not see the roundhouse kick. It collided with his temple, and he saw stars. (Come next morning, he was going have one hell of a headache.) Raziel connected hard and fast with the asphalt of the road, his glasses skittering to the side. His fingers grabbed gravel and bits of loose asphalt in his search for his glasses. The man couldn’t see a thing without them, everything just an ambiguous blob and blotch of blurry colour. Alice yammering on, however, gave him time to finally find them and slip them back on.

Her raspy laughter grated on Raziel, insulted him even.
“That girl’s body is the vessel, is it not?” he snarled, jabbing his head towards Alice. Without wasting another moment, he grabbed his staff and aimed a blow for her ankles. With any luck, she’d be grounded, left flat on her back and giving him the opportunity to pin her down.

[Alice Ruth King]

Alice was quite happy to feel her boot come in contact with the man's face; nothing could quite beat that feeling, could it? There was also something comical in seeing the huge guy down on the ground, searching for his glasses like some high school geek that got picked on for the umpteenth time that day. If Alice hadn't had her yearly dose of laughter, she might have giggled. Then again, Alice has never giggled. Perhaps chuckled is a more apt word. Chortled? Snickered? Cackled? Yes, cackling is about as close to giggling as Alice ever does.

However, Alice's little joyful fit made her kick quite pointless; the man had his glasses back on before she was done wiping the tears from her eyes. And then he was trying to get her with that stick again; Alice learned (maybe... a little bit) from her past hit, though, and managed to tuck jump when it came swinging for her ankles. "Ooh, you're a tricky bastard, aren't you?" She landed and started running around to the back of the guy. If he was as slow as he was large, this wouldn't be that hard at all.

Alice hopped up onto the back of the massive man, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She felt rather like Wesley fighting Fezzik, and she also thought of the times when she would fight her brothers. "Listen up, asshole. I'm not merely a body filled with the soul of a phoenix. The phoenix isn't using me. If anything, I'm using her for my own selfish gain because heating my arms up like this proves to be pretty useful, huh?" Alice's hands were in fact the only thing being heated up; seeing as she still had her leather jacket on, heating up anything else would be pretty pointless. Alice hung onto his back, her hands somewhere around 150 degrees. She was losing energy; it was three hours since her last meal, and using all of this heating energy left her with the beginning of her stamina drain.

[Raziel Och]

By the time he had finished swinging his staff for her ankles, she had tucked jumped and sprinted behind him. Raziel wasn’t quick enough to stop her from crawling upon him like some human ladder; his bulk didn’t allow it. If the throbbing headache he was developing wasn’t good enough, Alice had taken it upon herself to roast him with those damned hands of hers. If the fiery red-head wanted to keep those sticky little fingers, then she’d wise up and let go.

The heat her hands produced scorched him, burned his exposed shoulders as he squirmed. ”Get—get off of me!” His hands grabbed at her arms, and his superior strength came in handy for prying them apart. His only course of action was to throw her over his head, and avoid her hands as best as he could. If Raziel had waited a moment longer, he feared to fathom the fate of his shoulders. With that phoenix inhabiting that poor girl’s body, Alice was a tricky person to fight.

”I will not let your words trick me. They fall upon deaf ears, bird.” Raziel spoke against the pain searing up his shoulders, gritted his teeth as he threw Alice over his head by her arms. She was a light girl, and doing so was no problem for him. It was his new burns that were the issue. Tossing Alice like that made him hiss in pain—movement was tantamount to having a thousand tiny fire ants burrowing under his skin.

Those hands where nothing but trouble and could prove to be his downfall were he not careful enough. He needed to disable them, and quickly, if the second degree burns upon his shoulders were any indication of where this fight was headed. The only way he could fight her without the threat of her flaming hands harming him any further was by never letting go of his staff. And he didn’t know where that was, what with Alice jumping upon his back.

[Alice Ruth King]

Alice was glad to see that her hands were still managing to give at least a little burn to the man, but she started seeing black spots while still upon his back. While the man probably didn't notice, Alice' grip started to weaken even before he managed to throw her off. Damn it all, why does this happen? Well, I don't mean to be a wet blanket here, but you know if I was on my own I'd have to eat every hour, not just every three. We're fire-based, Alice. Azar was as peppy as ever in Alice's head.

Please. Shut. Up. Alice slammed into a street light when she was thrown off of Raz, and needless to say, the wind was knocked out of her. She had spread her wings to help slow her down a bit, but they didn't help much. Alice rose, her vision still going in and out, her ears ringing (and her stomach totally growling). She knew she was going to pass out any second. Her hands were back down to normal, and her wings weren't even close to their normal glory (though they were still quite impressive, I must say).


Alice's breathing was starting to get heavy, but she tried as hard as she could to disguise it. This asshole was not going to see her be weak. Wings aflame (and scorching her leather jacket, aw, sadface), standing tall, Alice sent all of her energy to her right fist. She hated not lasting this long. She hated this, and she hated losing. She managed a half-grin, then charged towards Raziel, her fist glowing with its heat.

Alice barely reached him. She landed her fist in his stomach (getting to those ROCK-HARD abs); she could smell material burning. And then she couldn't see anything, she couldn't hear anything, and the world was dark.

[OOC: AW YEAH I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO DO THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA]

[Raziel Och]

It was a welcome sight to have seen Alice collide with the street lamp. The wings that had erupted from her back as she did so were not. It was to be expected that Alice would manage to have wings of some sort, what with her being possessed by a phoenix. Though her leather jacket was now ruined. Irreparably so. How she managed to still get up afterwards was beyond him—the phoenix was a tenacious bugger Raziel was tiring of. Any normal human would have been knocked out cold. But of course Alice just had to stagger to her feet, black aflame with a modest set of wings. For the love of all that is holy, why couldn’t that damned thing just stay down… he thought to himself, furrowing his brow as fresh surges of irritation coursed through his body.

The fiery wings were an unwelcome distraction. Raziel did not dash for his staff as he should have, and he certainly didn’t take note of how she heated her fist up to the point it glowed. The red-head charged at him, face lit up with a half-grin and the light of the wings sailing behind her. The night quickly went from bad, to worse, to bloody abominable in the span of ten minutes. It was with sheer luck that her fist did not connect fully with his torso, though the awful stench of charred flesh still greeted his nose. In the nick of time Raziel grabbed her wrist, attempted to stop the brunt of the impact regardless of how his scorched shoulders protested.

The both of them tumbled on the ground, Raziel’s world on fire. The pain on his abdomen was searing, and he feared to even fathom just how bad the burn was, or how bad it could have been should Alice’s fist have connected fully. The man hissed with pain as he rolled onto his knees, afraid to so much as touch his wound. Tonight was just not his night, it seemed. He was not able to curry favour with the fates, to have any sort of luck on his side. It was as if everything was against him.

“Fuck… fucking—stupid little shit.” He swore through gritted teeth, breathing hard and hands trembling. The burn on his stomach pained him far worse than the ones on his shoulders did. He managed to clamber to his feet, and it was with relief that his eyes fell upon the prone form of Alice, wings now gone.

She was unconscious, as far as he could tell.

[Alice Ruth King]

Alice's body lay there, unmoving; at first glance she appeared dead, but on closer examination, a very faint movement of her chest could be detected. She was breathing, at the very least. Even a stranger looking at her could tell she was weak. Her hair was only glowing the faintest bit, her jacket was all but destroyed. The sun scar on her neck starting to turn a bit darker was the only sign of anything going on.

Inside Alice's head, a curious conversation was taking place. Azar was 'nudging' Alice's consciousness, trying to talk to it. Alice, Alice! You stupid girl, why on earth did you waste all of your energy like that?

The mental Alice groaned and answered slowly. If I was going to pass out anyways... I might as well have... injured him, right? Better to burn out than to rust, right?

Azar sighed. No, Alice. Not always. For once, the phoenix betrayed her actual age and seemed more wise to Alice; she had to remember that even though she was only three years old, the phoenix had indeed lived a thousand other lives.

Well, Christ, man, what was I supposed to do? Run? Fuck. That. Alice's (or rather, her consciousness') voice was defensive and angry. Anyways, I guess you should take over for a bit. Get me home, or, whatever.

Azar was silent for a moment. You know what, I really don't want to. I think I'm going to let you lie here for a little bit. I'm just as tired as you are, and I don't even know if I could get you home. So let's just see what he does, hmm?

Alice didn't respond; she knew when the phoenix got like this (and this was rare enough) to not argue with her. Instead, she merely waited. She had no idea what was going on, but Azar did, and (maybe) she'd tell her.

[Raziel Och]

The fight was disastrous, and could have ended up far, far worse if Raziel hadn’t been more careful or quick with his reflexes. Truth be told, he wasn’t very seasoned in terms of fighting creatures, wasn’t really all that high up in the Heaven’s Gate totem pole. It wasn’t that he was new to the concept of… disposing of them, no, but his conscience was still wrapping its head around Alice’s case. For the most part, she was human. For the most part, she really wasn’t even a creature at all. No, she just had the awful misfortune of being possessed.

He hadn’t fought someone possessed or bound before, really. It was always the run-of-the-mill creatures who had the horrible luck to make it on his bad side: kappas that terrorized people from under their bridges, the odd shape shifter he gladly exterminated, sometimes even an adlet or two. Something wasn’t right with this picture, but the order dictated he took care of people like Alice regardless of how he may feel on the matter. Raziel swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes still trained on her still form. Her breathing was shallow, and the once-bright hair had dulled somewhat. She was still alive.

With a groan, he ran his hands through his hair, unsure of what to do. Raziel would have paced if moving wasn’t a new torture all of its own. The burns running along his shoulders and stomach hurt with an intense flaring throb, and he had half a mind just to walk away. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides Alice’s (or was it the phoenix's?) tendency to get in someone’s face at the slightest provocation, she didn’t seem that dangerous−what the hell was he thinking?

This wasn’t like him. He shouldn’t have these thoughts, not a single one. He buried his face in his hands, his mind whirling and conscience warring with what was really right or wrong to do. Raziel rubbed at his eyes, exhausted and conflicted.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't kill Alice and not feel like some sick murderer. Raziel felt weak, unworthy of Heaven's Gate, then. But he wasn't going to "exterminate" her. None would really be the wiser, if one thought about it. At any rate, he couldn't just leave her laying in the middle of the road, even if this street was notoriously dead-quiet.

"Fucking phoenix," he swore, crossing over to Alice's side. At the most, he could simply move her off onto the side of grass. Then it would just look like she passed out from drugs or booze, and no one would really question it.

"You're lucky I'm not just leaving you there for a car to come run you over." With a pained grunt, Raziel slipped Alice into his arms and moved her off the road and onto the patch of grass riding the curb.

"But next time, I won't be so merciful." As if she could hear him, as if his words could somehow penetrate her unconsciousness. No matter, he'd had enough of Alice, of fighting and whatever else threw itself into his face.